


The Whole Avenger of Justice Dealio

by uschickens



Category: Jeeves and Wooster
Genre: Gen, Short, recast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uschickens/pseuds/uschickens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Bertie Wooster's parents were tragically gunned down in an alleyway in front of young Bertie's eyes, leaving him with many unresolved issues and a penchant for ludicrous costuming?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whole Avenger of Justice Dealio

  
What Aunt Agatha would say, I shuddered to think. To speak the whole truth, when thinking of Her Agathaness in general, the Wooster could be found quaking in his boots, but in this particular instance, the brain had merely to glance over the vaguest thought of one's mother having siblings to incur the greatest terror in one's breast. It positively made one reconsider one's moniker.

"I say, Jeeves," I said. "I truly feel that I have the obligation to continue on my current course of action-" perhaps it was stretching the Wooster Code a touch, but one did not readily forget the deaths of one's parents, even if the aforementioned mother had the poor taste to be in possession of at least one distaff sharerer-of-parents (not _my_ parents, of course; please do try to follow along - I speak of my parents' parents, who had the misfortune to have multiple offspring) - where was I? Oh, yes. Wooster Code, and all that. Still, when one's parents have the greatest gall to be killed, not only in front of the young Bertram's impressionable self, but in the streets of the metrop. which one and all love so well, one must follow the spirit of said Code, rather than the letter, to ensure than no other poor blokes meet the same fate, to the best of one's abilities.

Thus, the current c. of a.

"I say, Jeeves," I said - not again; I actually say it only once, but I feel it bears repeating in the course of this narrative, what with the expositional interlude that so insistently inserted itself in the middle of my quandry, "-if I'm truly looking to strike fear in the hearts of the criminality and whatnot, surely it would be better to seize upon an image of true fright and dread?"

Jeeves heaved a long-suffering sigh, which was discernible only by the slightest motion of his shoulders. One becomes accustomed to looking for these things, when one's been fortunate enough to be accompanied by a Jeeves of Jeeves' sort for as long as I have. "I think, sir, that you would find that sort of disguise even more uncomfortable than your current choice," he said, resettling the cowl about by head. "Nor does the nom de plume 'Auntman' tend to the appropriate response."

I sighed and clasped the belt more tightly about my waist. "I suppose you're right, Jeeves. As always."

"Indeed, sir. Shall I bring the car around?"

I beamed, even under the cowl. I mean, how could I not? One bonus of this entire situation, which was certainly no more ridiculous than the unfortunate events of Steeple Bumpleigh, the Wee Nooke, and that blasted child Edwin, was certainly The Car. I heaved a sigh quite unlike Jeeves', both in its audibility and its cause. A sigh of pure contentment and joy, I must say. If only the coves down at the Drones could see me behind the wheel. Well, rather, if they could see me and overlook the whole Avenger Of Justice dealio. Or possibly they could just see The Car parked out front with a large sign reading Property of one B. Wooster, which would avoid the whole A. of J. messiness. Speaking of which,

"Carry on, Jeeves. Carry on."


End file.
